


Weakness

by bjrit92



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angst, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Angst with a Happy Ending, F/M, Gabriel x reader - Freeform, Hunter!Reader, Hurt/Comfort, Reader!Whump, Reader-Insert, Subtle Gabriel x Reader
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-04
Updated: 2018-05-06
Packaged: 2019-05-02 04:38:42
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 3
Words: 6,595
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14536836
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bjrit92/pseuds/bjrit92
Summary: Something is wrong. Where are you? Why are you in chains? Where is Gabriel? Where are the boys? You're not sure you're going to like what is waiting for you.





	1. Fear

**Author's Note:**

> I've had this idea in my head for a while now and I finally got it down on (virtual) paper! This first chapter is all Reader, but it won't be like that for long. :)

Something was wrong. That much I knew. I took in my situation the best I could. My head was pounding. I was laying on a cold stone floor. Other than the headache, I didn't seem to be hurt. Opening my eyes, I could just barely make out my surroundings in the dim light. I was in a cramped, slightly damp room. There was a small stream of light coming in through a crack in a boarded-up window. A large wooden door stood imposing on a wall opposite of me. It had a small window with iron bars, giving the impression of being straight out of a movie dungeon. I couldn't tell anything more about what may lay outside my prison.

Where the hell was I? I reached up to rub my throbbing head and heard the rattle of chains before I felt the manacle around my wrist. I breathed deeply through my nose, trying to calm the rising panic.

How did I get here? I strained my memory but everything was fuzzy. I was...looking for something? I couldn't remember.

Frustrated, I let myself sink into my hunter's instincts. First things first. I took in the manacle around my left wrist, chaining me two feet from the floor. I could feel rust. They must be old. I found the keyhole with my fingers. I reached toward my pockets to find them completely empty. Desperately, I felt around on the floor in the space provided to me by the reach of the chain.

I cursed. No luck. The floor was immaculately swept clean. I sat down to regroup and come up with another plan. I tried in vain to tug my wrist loose from the manacle, and then to tug the chain loose from the floor. Nothing.

To think. Out of all of the hunting and precarious situations I've been in, all of the apocalyptic nonsense, a chain and starvation is the way I go. How pathetic.

I shook the pessimistic thoughts away. Now was not the time to be wallowing in self-pity. There had to be a way out of here. My eyes were drawn to a few dust motes floating in the stream of light let in by the window. The window! Maybe the boards were loose?

I stood and reached as far as I could. My right hand could just barely grasp the edge of the board near me. The wood felt old, pliable. I gripped it the best I could, I could feel wood splinters digging into my fingers and the manacle on my other wrist was digging into my flesh. I pulled with all of my might.

Almost...

Almost...

There!

The edge of the board pulled away from the wall just enough to loosen the nail holding it in. I desperately dug with my fingers trying to free the nail. I could feel my fingernails scraping along the wood and I knew I was tearing them to shreds, but desperation was winning out over the pain. Finally, after what felt like ages, it fell to the floor near my feet!

I hurriedly picked it up and started to manipulate it into the keyhole. It was slow going, my fingers were aching and the lock was slick with blood from my wrist and fingers. I hoped wildly that the blood would act as a lubricant of sorts to help the nail to loosen the lock.

I heard a click and the manacle fell to the floor. I almost wanted to cheer in triumph, but I pushed that feeling away. Step one was complete. I was free. I still didn't know where I was, though, or who locked me up like this.

I made my way to the window, trying to see through the crack. I could make out a tree line a few hundred feet away, but not much else to give me a sense of where I was. I turned my attention to the mysterious door. Standing on my toes, I could see a dark, empty hallway on the other side of the door through the bars. I didn't see any sign of a guard or sentry. I wondered if I was completely alone in this strange building. I contemplated calling out for help, but I worried that anyone who could hear me would probably not be too friendly.

Step two: escape this room. I could bash the door open. It would be loud, though, and could attract unwanted attention the same as calling for help would. Perhaps I could work the boards loose on the window and shimmy through it? I still have the nail I pried loose, I could potentially pick the lock on the door. While this last thought ran through my mind I reached forward absentmindedly and grasped the handle. I gave it a testing pull and was stunned when the door gave way.

It was unlocked.

This knowledge made me pause. Either my captor(s) had thought the rusty manacle was enough to hold me, or they knew I would free myself from it.

They wanted me to escape.

I wish I had a weapon. I felt naked without one.

Hyper-alert and cautious, I slowly made my way down the hallway, feeling my way across a wall to keep my bearings. I could see a light ahead. The closer I got, it started to take shape into that of a door, cracked open. I reached the door and pushed it open achingly slow. Peering around in the dim lighting, the first thing I noticed was that I was alone.

The second thing I noticed were the weapons. Throwing caution to the wind, I burst into the room, intent on arming myself to the teeth. I reached the table holding several shotguns and let out a sigh of dismay. Each one of them had been cleanly, methodically broken in half, rendering it useless. Looking around I realized in rapidly increasing anguish that every weapon in the room had somehow, in some way, been incapacitated. It was like dangling a toy in front of a child and then throwing it into the fire. I was meant to find this room, meant to feel helpless. Whomever my captors were, they wanted me to feel weak.

It’s a good thing they didn’t know me. I don’t do weak.

I found a knife that had just enough blade on it to do a bit of damage and stuffed it into my belt. It wouldn’t do much, but hopefully it would slow an attacker down. I searched the room for anything else useful. My eyes were drawn to a table in the corner, covered in trashed equipment. The tools were sitting on top of some papers. Maybe they would lend me an idea of who, or what, I was dealing with. I gently pulled them out from under the wreckage, taking care still to be quiet in case there were enemies close by.

The papers were mostly junk. Collection notices from the IRS, decades old bank statements. The last paper was a photograph. I turned it over to study it and my heart sank through my chest and into the floorboards below, taking my stomach with it.

The photograph was of two men in camouflage gear, hunting rifles strapped to their chest. It was a hunting trophy photo. Only their prize, being held up by the hair, was a human.

Fuckin’ Benders.

I had to get out of there. Now. Dropping the papers and disturbing photo onto the table, I made my way back to the door. I listened at the open doorway for any sounds before cautiously peering around each way. Now that I knew what I was dealing with, I was extra cautious. I was still apparently alone, so I slipped out the doorway and into the hallway once more. Stepping so quietly I didn’t make a sound, I painstakingly made my way down the hallway until I came to the next, and last, door. It was open as well. Deceptively inviting. It seemed to be a living room of sorts. There was an unlit fireplace against the wall and an old flatscreen playing a football game strapped over the mantle. An old-fashioned couch with yellow polyester fabric sat facing the screen. There was little other furniture besides a side table and a coat rack next to a door.

A door leading outside.

A door that was conveniently open.

There was no way in hell I was going out that door.

I searched the room with my eyes once more and they found a closed window opposite of the door. The latch looked old. It would likely make a sound if I tried to open it. They may not be expecting me to ignore the door. That open door looked like an invitation to my death. Everything up to this point has been too convenient. The only struggle had been in the room I’d started in.

I had an idea. I was fairly confident now that the inhabitants of this house were waiting outside in the woods for their twisted game to start. I made my way back out the door I’d entered through and re-entered the weapons room. Looking around, I finally found what I sought. The handle had been removed from the axe and the blade had been dulled until it was useless, but I could find a use for it.

Carrying my prize, I found my way back into the room I’d been chained in. Closing the door behind me as an attempt at security, I moved to the window and wedged the axe blade under the edge of the first board I’d gotten the nail from. Trying not to grunt from exertion, I used the blade as leverage to pull the board the rest of the way out of the wall. Sure enough, the window was broken behind the boards. It looked big enough that I could squeeze myself through, though, if I removed enough of the boards.

It was slow going. I wasn’t sure how long I worked but I could feel the metal digging into my skin and ripping new calluses and my arms were burning. Sweat dripped down my forehead. Eventually, I’d removed enough of the boards I could pull myself through the window. I used one of the boards to knock a few of the large pieces of glass loose. I started to hoist a leg up when I stopped. I turned and found one of the boards with a particularly numerous amount of nails sticking through it. That one had been a bitch to pry loose, but it would make an excellent makeshift weapon.

Board in hand, I wedged myself through the small window. I could feel the shards of glass still in the frame scraping and ripping across my skin and I grit my teeth at the pain. My feet hit solid ground and I almost sighed in relief. I was getting exhausted. I had to remind myself that for these fucks, the night was only getting started. It’s just a matter of when they decide to show.

“Oh, yer a smart ‘un, ain’tcha?”

I didn’t have to wait long, it seemed. Whipping to my right I saw a weedy looking man with bad teeth and a horrific stench of bad hygiene slowly, cockily meandering my way, a machete in his hands.

“I told ‘em, see. They though I’s stupid, but I said ‘this ‘un’s a smart’n, you’ll see.’” I backed away from him as he approached, trying to assess the situation as he spoke. “They’s out in them woods, thinkin’ you’d’a fallen for their trap. I told ‘em I’d wait here an’ they laughed. Let’s see if they’ll be laughin’ when I bring ‘em yer head.”

He lunged, but I was ready for it. I dodged and quickly struck at him with my board, thanking Chuck I had brought it with me. The board missed him just slightly and he swung at me again, aiming for my throat. I threw myself backward in an attempt to dodge the blow. He anticipated the movement and immediately followed his swing with a kick to my stomach, knocking me off my feet. Landing on my back, the wind rushed out of me. I didn’t have time to regain my composure before he was bearing down on top of me, one hand around my throat, cutting off any further air and the other with the knife, trying to inch it closer toward my jugular. I desperately pushed his hand holding the knife away from me as I began to see spots. My right hand was fumbling in the near-darkness beside me, attempting to reach my board I had dropped when I fell. Finally, my fingers brushed wood. Grasping with the last of my strength, my vision fading at the edges, I gripped the plank in my hand and swung it upward in an arc toward my attacker.

By the grace of Charles Shurley himself, the damn thing struck true. I felt the body on top of me go limp and I pushed it to the side. I lay still for a moment to catch my breath and rub my aching neck. Sitting up, I could see in the dim lighting the man beside me, glassy eyes open, the board with its nails lodged deep into the side of his head like a macabre puppet on Halloween. I reached down and pried the blade from his hands.

“You don’t mind if I take this, do you?” My voice was hoarse from the strangling. Rubbing my throat again, I stumbled my way into the woods. The foliage was thick and made the little light left in the day disappear completely. I was left feeling my way across tree trunks, I could do nothing about the crunch of leaves below my feet.

A twig snapped and I froze in place. My heart was pounding and with my eyesight compromised, every sound was amplified. The air was unusually still. Not even a squirrel to scamper up a tree. The silence only increased my anxiety. After a moment, I took a step forward, attempting to continue in my path away from the house.

SHNNNNG. The little air I had regained was sucked from my lungs once more as my world turned upside down and a sharp pain coursed through my leg. I was hoisted into the air by a rope, like a rabbit in a snare. The sudden loss of oxygen kept me from screaming in surprise and pain, at least. My ankle was burning and my hip was on fire from the sudden motion of being suspended by my right leg. I couldn’t see a thing, but sudden vertigo had me nauseous.

“We caught us sumthin’, Jed! I bet it’s that bitch!” A man’s voice in the not-too-far distance called.

If possible, my heart rate increased even more. I had to get down. I scrambled in the air before realizing I was still holding the machete in my hand. Using as much core strength as I could manage, I swung my upper body upward toward my feet. I prayed to whomever was listening that I didn’t accidentally hack off my foot by mistake as I slashed with the machete toward my suspended ankle.

I missed. Once, twice...there!

On the third swing I struck true. I heard the rope snap followed immediately by the sensation of falling at least ten feet through the air. I had the good sense to hold my arm with the machete away from me as I fell so I didn’t impale myself. I didn’t want to drop it, either. I didn’t trust that I would find it again if I did.

I landed with a thud. My lungs were starting to burn from the force of having the air knocked out of them three times now. I didn’t have time to catch my breath, though. I could hear footfalls crunching my way, getting closer by the second. I pulled myself to my feet and blindly ran in what I thought was the direction of the house, away from the approaching benders.

“Hurry, Rick! It’s getting away!”

How the hell could they see me in this darkness? Electricity shot up my arms and made my hair stand on end as a bullet wizzed by me, embedding itself in a tree beside me. I crouched behind the tree, staying as small and still as I possibly could, desperately trying to listen for approaching sounds.

I yelled in sudden pain as I was pulled to a standing position by my hair. My free hand clawed at the hand gripping my hair. I heard a throaty chuckle and the smell of stale cigarettes and whiskey drifted my way.

“Looks like I caught me a prize here, innut?” I moved my hand from his wrist and felt toward his face, feeling an unkempt beard under my hand. “Whatchu doin’, little bitch? Get yer hands off me before I—“

I struck him in the throat with my machete, cutting off his words. His hand released its grip on my hair and he fell to the ground. I had no idea if he was dead, but I wasn’t sticking around to find out. There was another one somewhere and I didn’t want to meet him, too. I took off in the opposite direction of where he had come from and after a minute of stumbling and half-running, I saw lights ahead of me, beyond the trees.

I practically fell out of the tree line and booked it toward the house. I don’t know what I expected to find there, but right now, it was shelter, and that was my only goal. I could hear someone running through the trees behind me. I ducked as I heard more shots fly by me. The curses being shouted at me were drowned by the sounds of the gunshots ringing through the air and the small explosions of wood and dust they created as they hit the side of the house and the windows. I sprinted around the house to the front door. Not bothering to be cautious I lunged through the door, flinging it open and myself through it. I slammed it closed behind me and took a moment to stand with my head against it, breathing.

I regained my breath and suddenly realized all sound from outside had quieted. I opened my eyes and leaned away from the door. The door...it was different, too. I turned and looked down the hallway. Wait, the hallway? This door had been in a dated living room. Where was I? Why did it look...familiar?

I suddenly noticed the symbols carved into the door, and all of the other doors down the hallway I was standing in.

I was in the bunker.


	2. Betrayal

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Here's chapter 2! This one has more than just the Reader involved, but not in the way you may expect. We may be in the bunker, but that doesn't always mean we're home. I'll post chapter 3, the final chapter, tomorrow! Until then, enjoy! Much love and chocolates <3

I almost laughed in relief. I had no idea how the hell I’d gotten here, or where the hell I’d come from, but I was home, somehow. Were the boys here? I wanted to find out, but before I could go any further down the hallway, my knees gave out and I sank to the floor. The adrenaline that had been pumping through my veins for who knew how long was waning and I was crashing, hard. My breaths were coming in deep gasps and I put my hands on top of my head and tried to slow my breathing before I fell into a panic attack. A few hysterical tears escaped down my cheeks before I wiped them from my face and pulled myself up. I had a horrible thought and quickly turned back to the door I’d entered through. Preparing myself, I turned the handle and jerked the door open.

It was a small supply cupboard full of dusty brooms, mops, buckets...it reminded me of a janitor’s closet in high school. I breathed a sigh of relief, I was half convinced that I’d open the door and find a double-barrel in my face. Closing the door, I didn’t bother to sneak forward down the hallway. Why should I? The bunker had been my home for almost a decade, now.

I didn’t get very far before a door opened beside me. I barely had time to turn before a hand covered my mouth and another one pulled me forcefully into the room.

The door closed the instant I was clear of it and in the three seconds between being outside of the door and suddenly inside, my wits had come back to me and I began to struggle against my captor.

“Sssshhhh, Sugar. Calm down. It’s me.”

The hands restraining me loosened their grip and I turned to face my captor.

“Gabriel?”

Gabriel looked me over, obviously inspecting my well-being. By his face, I could tell he was none-too-happy with my state. I hadn’t seen myself, but with my swollen ankle, cuts and scrapes from glass and tree branches, my fights with the benders, and everything in-between, I was sure I was quite the sight. I rubbed my wrist where the shackle had bruised it self-consciously.

Gabriel placed one hand tenderly on my shoulder and lifted my chin with his other. I looked up at him.

“Sweets, are you okay?”

I opened my mouth to reply, but no sound came out. I closed it and shook my head. He pulled me to him in an embrace. I gripped him tightly and he stroked my hair comfortingly.

“What was it?”

“Benders.”

I felt his grip around me tighten. I sunk into his chest and grounded myself against him. Too soon, he pulled himself away from me. Holding me by the shoulders, I felt his grace wash over me, healing my wounds. It was rejuvenating. I smiled at him and he kissed my forehead. Suddenly, his face grew serious.

“Y/N, there’s something you need to know. All of what you went through just now with the benders, all of this, it isn’t real. I mean, it is. But it’s complicated. You have to understand, you’re—“

His words were cut short as an invisible force seemed to rip him away from me and teleported him elsewhere.

“Gabriel!”

“That was touching, but you know how I feel about chick-flick moments.” I whipped around and saw Dean and Sam standing in the doorway. Dean’s hand was bloody and pressed against a banishing sigil painted on the open doorway.

“Dean, Sam, what the hell?!” I yelled. “Why did you banish Gabriel?”

“Fucking angels,” Sam sneered. I looked to him in shock. Dean had pulled his hand away from the sigil and wiped the blood off on his shirt. I was so stunned by how they were acting it took me a second before I realized they both had guns drawn.

At me.

I looked from the guns to the men in front of me. “Guys...it’s me. What are you doing?”

They started to approach me and I found myself backing away. I’d seen both men in action for years, now. They were well-oiled machines of death. Having their sights set on me was incredibly intimidating.

“Dean...?”

“Sam...?”

I looked at each of them in turn, but got nothing in response but cold hatred in their eyes.

“Guys! It’s me, come on! It’s Y/N!”

“Oh, we know who you are,” Sam stated cooly. “And we told you what would happen if we saw your face again.”

“Yeah,” Dean joined. “How we would separate it, along with your head, from the rest of your body. Showing back up here was a damn stupid move, Sweetheart.”

The nickname stung when he spit it at me like that. I was dumbfounded. What the hell was going on? The Winchester’s were like my brothers! Why did they suddenly want to kill me? Unless...

“You’re not Sam and Dean.”

Dean chuckled. “Oh, I assure you. It’s us. If we had the time, I’d let you perform any test you wanted. But I’m a little too excited to see your head on a pike.”

His finger twitched and I threw myself to the side as a bullet whizzed from the gun in his hand. It grazed my cheek, leaving an angry cut that I could feel blood instantly beginning to pour from. I didn’t have time to regroup before another bullet landed near me. I scrambled away, crawling around bookshelves and piles of boxes.

I tried not to focus too much on who was shooting at me as I attempted to strategize my escape from the room. I needed to get past them out of the door. I leaned up against a bookshelf and had an idea. Turning and leaning my back against the shelf, I pushed until I felt it give way. It fell and knocked into another shelf, which gave away like dominos. I heard the gunshots stop and a yell as the boys dove out of the way of the falling shelves. I ran at the door and out into the hallway.

For a split-second I considered running straight down the hallway. I knew my best shot was to hide in another room, though. I heard the boys scrambling to their feet behind me and I ran toward a door across the hall. Unknowing about what may be beyond the door, I threw it open and closed it back behind me as quickly as I could.

I was in another hallway. Perfect! I ran down the hallway and opened one of the rooms on the end of the row. Closing the door behind me once more, I looked around at my new surroundings. I was in another library. A smaller one, more compact. There were bookshelves and cabinets lining the walls, rows of shelving with books and other items piled on top of them.

“Y/N?”

I spun around and threw myself at Gabriel, standing in front of the door. “Gabriel! How did you get back here so fast? The boys! They’re trying to kill me! What’s going on?”

“Woah, woah, slow down,” he said, holding me strangely stiffly. “Where are Beavis and Butthead?”

I pulled away from him, searching his face. “They’re not too far behind me, Gabe. I could really use some backup. And an explanation as to why my best friends want me dead?”

Gabriel held me by the shoulders, his grip uncomfortably tight. “Well, darling,” he began, “I’d imagine they want you dead—“

In one fluid motion he released me and sucker-punched me across the jaw.

“—for the same reasons I do.”

I crumbled to the floor at the blow and began to crawl away from him, tears of pain and confusion and heartbreak welling in my eyes. This Gabriel was not my Gabriel. My mind knew that, but my heart was harder to convince and the pain of betrayal was somehow worse. I needed to focus. If I thought the Winchesters were dangerous, they were nothing compared to the might of an archangel out for blood. He snapped his fingers and I was picked up and thrown across the room, slamming into one of the bookshelves. I felt blood trickling down my head and I knew I’d cracked my skull when my head hit the shelf. The feeling was making me dizzy almost immediately.

I didn’t have time to dwell on the feeling before an invisible hand began to choke me, lifting me off of my feet and pressing me harder against the bookshelf behind me. Just then the door burst open and the brothers entered the room, guns drawn, an unmasked bloodlust on their faces.

Tears trickled down my cheeks. The three men I loved most in the world...

Sam and Dean pointed their guns at me.

“You see, Y/N,” Sam started, “your mistake was thinking we wanted you dead immediately.” He pulled his trigger and I felt jagged, white-got pain erupt from a spot on my shoulder.

“We’re gonna do this nice and slow,” Dean finished his brother’s thought. He pulled his trigger and I felt the pain of a bullet wound in my thigh this time. The force gripping my neck wouldn’t allow me to scream at the pain. It was allowing me just enough oxygen to keep me conscious. Tears were pouring down my face, now. I wished they would aim for my heart. A bullet there would hurt less than this and would end the emotional torment of knowing who it was that put it there.

“Get your slimy grace off of her,” a voice said. My vision was blurry and there was a thudding in my ears that made it difficult to tell who was speaking. I noticed, however, when the force choking me relented and I dropped to the floor, agonizing pain from the bullet wounds coursing through my body. I looked up as my vision cleared and saw a struggling Gabriel being held prone against the wall by another invisible force. Sam and Dean has been thrown at the wall and knocked unconscious.

“Y/N!”

I turned and blinked a couple of times to clear my vision. In front of me stood a second Gabriel, holding the first one at bay.

“Y/N, I should have explained before and I don’t have much time to now, I can’t hold him back for very long! You’re in a dream! A nightmare! Created by a djinn!”

Djinn.

Djinn.

Djinn!

We were hunting a djinn! I must have been caught!

“Y/N, you know what you have to do! Everything will be okay, I swear! I’ll meet you on the other side, come on, Sugar!”

I looked around quickly before my hands landed on the small bit of a knife I’d salvaged from the equipment room at the Bender’s place. Locking eyes with the Gabriel in front of me, he gave me a small nod. I looked down at the knife. At best, It’ll be true and I’ll wake up in the warehouse with the boys and the djinn. At worst, it would simply kill me. I’d be away from this hell, though, so it seemed like a fair trade.

I drew the bit of blade deep across my throat.

The pain was excruciating. I felt the blood pouring down my front and I gurgled as I fell over. Through my blurred vision I could see the second Gabriel pop out of existence, releasing the first one from his hold. I saw him step toward me, malice in his face. He opened his mouth to speak, but I couldn’t hear what he said.

Everything went black.


	3. Resolution

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here's the final chapter to Weakness! It's a shorter fic, but I don't do chapter fics often, and this idea has had a hold of me for quite some time. I hope you all have enjoyed it, poor Reader has been through some sh*t. Much love and chocolates for you all! <3

A thud.

A grunt.

“Sammy!”

“...hear me...”

A scream.

“...unconscious...”

“...breathing...”

“...dead?”

“Dead.”

“...coming around?”

“...gaining consciousness, I think...she can...”

“Y/N? Y/N can you hear me? Wake up, Sugar, come on. That’s it.”

Slowly, achingly slowly, I felt my eyelids trying to open. They felt heavy, weighed down as if they were made of lead. There was a terrible ache in my arms and my body felt heavy and weightless all at once. I felt something touching my hair and immediately the bender gripping my hair as he pulled me toward him flashed through my mind. My eyes flew open and I tried to scramble away, only managing a weak flailing of my arms and wriggle of my body. The owner of the hand in my hair immediately withdrew it, sensing my distress.

I blinked a few times and my vision came into focus. Nothing I saw made sense, Everything was muddled and my brain felt clouded. Something covered in shining blue streaks was laying on the floor a few dozen feet away, there was something sticking out of its chest. A stake? Wait. Djinn. Nightmares. It was a djinn laying there, dead, a stake presumably covered in lamb’s blood stuck fast in its chest. My view of the dead creature was obscured when someone knelt down beside me. Why was I on the floor?

Gabriel’s face appeared in front of me as he bent down. Too close. My mind conjured the image of the wrong Gabriel, features twisted in hatred as he struck me. I gasped and flinched away involuntarily. Hurt and sympathy flashed across the Gabriel’s face in front of me before he took on a calming demeanor. His peacefulness did nothing to influence mine and I continued to try and push myself away from him.

“Y/N, Sugar, you’re okay. It’s me, Gabe. The real one. You’re awake.”

His words didn’t process.

To the side I heard “the real one?”

My eyes drifted past the immediate threat and found two tall figures standing near me, looming over me. They came into focus as Sam and Dean and if possible (my body was lacking so much energy it was difficult to move but my adrenaline was pumping through my veins like a freight train) I scrambled harder, trying to get away and hide as best as I could. The most I could manage was a whimper and to curl into myself. The three men looked down on my attempt at self-preservation, confused and a bit hurt. Gabriel stood and turned to them.

“The nightmares the djinn threw her into...they were about us.” The boys’ faces took on a look of dark understanding. Dean’s hands twitched before balling them into fists and huffing in anger.

I still wasn’t fully aware of where I was or what was going on. The words I was hearing made sense logically but I couldn’t get my brain or my heart to buy them. Seeing Dean’s anger, I pushed myself into a sitting position and scooted myself as close to the wall I was leaned against as possible, curling in on myself and whimpering “no, please no.”

The men heard me and turned to look at me. Sam immediately realized the problem and nudged Dean, who released his fists and calmed his expression. Sam knelt down near me. He reached his hand toward me, but drew it back when I flinched away.

“Y/N, I know you’re scared. I promise, none of us are going to hurt you. You’re out of there. What you went through, what you saw, it wasn’t real. This is real, out here.”

I pulled my head up and looked at him. I studied his face, saw the honestly and the compassion in his eyes. I wanted to believe him, I did. But I was still so scared. What if it wasn’t true? What if this was another nightmare? I trust these men and go with them and they attack me again while my guard is down? I could feel tears prickling at my eyes.

“We need to get out of here,” Dean piped up softly from where he stood. Gabriel knelt down beside me, making my heart beat faster. I tried to quell the fight-or-flight vibrating through my bones. Something instinctual within me recognized the power of the creature beside me and remembered how it felt to be thrown around and almost killed by that creature. I breathed deeply through my nose, repeating to myself in my head “it’s just Gabe. My Gabe.”

Gabriel spoke quietly to me, “Sweets, do you think you can walk?” I took quick stock of my body, felt the utter exhaustion, and shook my head. He smiled softly, reassuringly, at me.

“That’s okay. I’ll carry you, if you’ll let me?” My eyes widened at the thought and once again my heart was trying to beat its way out of my chest. “I know it’s hard right now, but I need you to trust me, okay? We’ll be home soon. I promise.”

I locked eyes with him for a long moment before nodding my head. Before I knew what was happening, he reached forward. I felt him tap my forehead, and everything went dark.

~

I woke from a blissfully dreamless sleep confused and disoriented. I rolled over and stretched, feeling a tightness in my muscles and and ache in my shoulders I couldn’t quite place. Where was I? I was comfortable, cozily wrapped in warm blankets. My hand touched something warm beside me as I stretched.

All at once the memories of the last few days screamed through my mind. Local disappearances, tracking the djinn, being separated from the boys and overwhelmed by the djinn, the nightmare world, the chains, the benders, the fighting, Gabriel, Sam and Dean, another Gabriel, slicing my own throat...like an explosion in my head all of the memories resurfaced and my eyes shot open, I sat up quickly, hands already searching for a weapon, adrenaline pumping, heart pounding—

“Y/N! Y/N, please! Listen to me! Focus! You’re safe!”

Eyes wild, I found the voice beside me. Gabriel was perched on the bed next to me, obviously fighting an instinct to hold me. I was glad for his restraint. His words sank in and I calmed, forcing my breathing to slow down. After a moment, sensing I was coming down from the rush of fight-or-flight, Gabriel boldly reached across and softly put his hand on my shoulder. It drew my attention, grounded me. I felt myself crashing and the tears welling up in my eyes. I looked to Gabriel, wordlessly, helplessly. He understood and gently pulled me to him, encasing me in his arms. It broke my heart that this, something that usually made me feel so safe and loved, held a modicum of fear for me, now. The tears fell and he began to rock, shushing me as he did so.

“Gabriel, why am I so weak?”

Gabriel stopped rocking. “Sweetheart, you’re not weak. You’re the most badass woman I know. And I know a lot of women,” he chuckled, trying to assuage my mood with his joke. I couldn’t bring myself to laugh, and the joke fell flat. “Y/N, you went through a lot. When that djinn caught you...I saw red. I almost demolished the entire building trying to find you. When we caught up with the djinn and explained what he’d been doing...he called himself ‘a connoisseur’. Usually, when you’re in a djinn dream, you’re put somewhere ideal, somewhere happy. This one decided that fear tastes better. He manufactures your worst nightmares and throws you to the wolves. Sweetheart, what you went through...it doesn’t matter that it was in your head, it was real enough, and I’m so sorry you had to go through that.”

He was stroking my hair now, and as he spoke, my mind had cleared. I was still upset about what the djinn had done to me, but now, my fear and anger was being redirected toward it and away from the ones I loved. I could feel a touch of grace being transferred to me, calming me with every brush of his fingers through my hair. I loved him for it. I realized I had curled myself into him at some point. My head rested on his chest and his arm draped around me, positioned the way we had been a thousand times before. I felt safe here. It felt like home. We sat this way, silently, for several minutes before I spoke again.

“Thank you, for saving me. I don’t know what I would have done if I was trapped in that alternate bunker for much longer. Having you and the boys after me...trying to kill me...all of my training, all of my hunting instincts, everything went away. I’ve never felt so helpless.”

He held me tighter and kissed my head. “I will always be there to save you, Sugar.”


End file.
